And the Unholy Alliance
by The Black Sun's Daughter
Summary: "This world is done for, Ezekiel. You were a thief once. You know when it's time to get out while the getting's good. Well, the getting doesn't get much better than this." (Loom of Fate AU)


Ezekiel trudges into his office and shuts the door behind him, slumping back against the door for a moment as he scrubs at his face with both hands. God, it never ends. No matter how close they bloody get, they still can't _fix_ it. He wishes, not for the first time in the past ten years, that Eve was still alive. He needs one of her pep talks right about now. Or for her to pull him up by the ears and tell him to quit whining, he's a Librarian, dammit, now act like one. Right now, he'd take either one and be thankful. Fuck that stupid magic house. Fuck Katie Bender, too, and her stupid fucking magic house that ripped a hole in the world.

"Well, isn't this just _dreary?"_ a way-too-familiar voice drawls, and Ezekiel jerks upright so fast he almost impales himself on the coat hook on the back of the door.

Morgan le Fay is perched lazily on the sofa in his office like she owns the bloody place, wearing the same black cocktail dress he last saw her in, legs folded neatly under her, killer stiletto heels digging into the cushions. She studies her fingernails disinterestedly for a moment before looking up at him with a languid smile. "Hello, Ezekiel Jones. Long time no see."

"What do you want?" he asks shortly. "Unless you're here to fix my problem, you can go ahead and bugger off."

Her lower lip slides out a bit, pouting. "Don't you want to hear me out first?"

"Not really, no. What do you want? Spit it out, I wanna take a nap."

She settles herself back against the sofa primly and regards him with the intent scrutiny of a kitten waiting for a bug to make the first move. "I want to know if you're interested in leaving this godforsaken cesspool of a world and visit a new one. Or several new ones, actually," she replies.

Ezekiel blinks. "What? You're...you're asking if I want to _leave?_ What, with _you?"_ he asks in disbelief, and she nods. _"Why?"_

She shrugs lightly. "Because this place is a complete drag now that everyone's gone all dead-eyed, and you are not only the only Librarian, you are the most interesting person left in the world. Believe it or not, Ezekiel, I do get lonely from time to time. I mean, it hasn't happened for a couple centuries now, so I guess I'm overdue. Right now, the fabric between worlds is weak, and I intend to punch my ticket before the last train leaves the station."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He has to be dreaming. It's finally happened. He's finally cracked under the pressure and gone completely loopy. "And you want... _me_ to come with you? And...go backpacking across dimensions?" he asks.

"Eh, more or less."

"How about no?"

Morgan huffs and tosses her curly hair. "Oh, come on. This world is done for, Ezekiel. You were a thief once. You know when it's time to get out while the getting's good. Well, the getting doesn't get much better than this. I'm giving you the chance to be rid of all this." She flaps a hand towards the rest of the office, where his team is still trying to fix the world, running on fumes and the last of the coffee.

Ezekiel glances out the window of his office; his team is still working diligently, probably unable to see Morgan at all, judging by the way they walk right past the window without looking twice. He's trying to keep them going, but it's been years now, and they're running out of options. The food supply's down to the wire, and it's a miracle they've kept the power going for as long as they have, but it won't last forever. They're trying to fix the world, but it doesn't seem to want to be fixed anymore. And he's tired. So very tired of trying to shovel his way out of a hole that's only been getting deeper. "They get to leave, too," he says at last. "My people."

"They're not coming with _us,"_ Morgan immediately protests.

He waves a hand. "Fine, fine, they don't come with us, but they don't stay _here._ You send them someplace else, someplace _safe._ Them and anyone else that's still normal out there. Do that, and I'll go with you."

She stares at him for a long moment, tapping one red-lacquered fingernail against the corner of her lips, then finally smiles a slow, languid grin, like a cat licking cream. "Sentiment. How very cute. Fine. The rest of the little insects can go find a new anthill to live in. And you'll be my companion?" she prompts again.

Ezekiel lets out a slow breath, gazing at the redhead draped so casually over the sofa in his office, like they could've been at a dinner party somewhere instead of discussing whether or not to ditch the planet and go find another dimension to live in instead. Eve would kill him for even _thinking_ about this...but Eve's gone, and this is the best chance they've got. "Alright," he replies.

Morgan smiles again, that creamy feline smile of hers, and he has the feeling that he's going to be seeing a lot of that smile from now on. "Done," she almost purrs.

"Hold on. I want more than just your say-so. I want an accord. You'll put them somewhere safe, and you will leave them alone forever," Ezekiel adds swiftly, jabbing a finger in her direction, and he has the satisfaction of seeing her eyebrows arch in surprise.

"Well, well, Mr. Jones. I'll say this, you are _definitely_ the most interesting person left on this rock. Very well. An accord." Morgan unfolds her legs and stands, stepping right up to him; in her ankle-snapping heels, they are of the same height, and he doesn't have to look down the slightest bit to meet her gaze. Her eyes are brown, but they glow, like honey held up to the sunlight. "Your little humans will be transported to a safe location in another dimension where they can live out the rest of their pitiful little days in peace and happiness, and I will not interfere in those lives in any way, shape, or form. And in return, you will be my companion and travel with me wherever I wish to go."

"And I will keep my free will and have the choice to refuse what you ask," Ezekiel adds.

Only one eyebrow lifts this time, reminding him uncannily of Mr. Spock, both a query and a rebuke at the same time. "You'll be beholden to me, bound to go where I go...but you will have the ability to gainsay my words," she amends.

It's not ideal. He's stuck with her, sure, but as long as he's not asking 'how high' every time she says 'jump,' he'll get over it. It'll be worth getting out of this bloody place once and for all. "Agreed. We have an accord."

Morgan cups his jaw in her hands and presses her lips to his.

It's like walking into a nuclear reactor and licking the core, or holding a newborn star in his bare hands. The shock of it goes through him like a bullet, and despite himself, his toes curl in his shoes. He can _taste_ her power, feel it slide along his skin and leach down into his bones, curling around a deep-rooted part of _himself_ and knotting tightly there, binding him to her. The whole world takes on a muted golden glow even behind his closed eyelids, and everything smells of roses. When her tongue flicks feather-light across his lips, he can taste honey, and over the thundering of his own pulse in his ears, he hears the thrumming pulse of doves' wings.

She releases him but doesn't back off, standing close enough that their breath is shared between them; his arms are around her waist, and he doesn't quite remember moving them there. _"Now_ we have an accord," she replies, golden glow filling her eyes. "Your little humans are safe, Librarian. As promised," she murmurs, and he glances towards the window out the corner of his eye; the offices are empty, completely empty. "Now...shall we go find ourselves a kingdom to rule?"


End file.
